Okay, time to make a friend, Tanaka thought to herself. She grimaced; this would not be easy. Well, first time for everything, I suppose.
She walked into the room containing the late Administrator Adomar's secretary. Said secretary looked up from whatever work occupied her these days and smiled politely. The smile was quickly replaced by confusion as she realized that Tanaka was not only alone, but carrying her helmet rather than wearing it. It would be hard to put anyone at ease when they couldn't see your face.
"Hi, there. Just wanted to talk for a minute," Tanaka greeted awkwardly. "Off the record, of course," she lied. She silently cursed Locke for this idea. Secretly pumping people for information while pretending to be reaching out was not what she had signed up for. Still, orders were orders. And it's not like she had to report everything she learned...
Once again to her credit, the secretary took it in stride. "Of course," she replied. "Please, have a seat," she gestured to one of the two chairs in front of her desk.
Tanaka smiled. "Sorry, ma'am, but there's no way one of those things could handle me. This gear weighs a ton," she explained, referring to her MJOLNIR Mark VIII armor. The secretary smiled in response.
Suddenly, Tanaka had an idea. She moved one of the chairs aside and simply sat cross-legged on the floor. Her augmented height meant that her eye level was about where an average person's would be if they were sitting down.
Her host blinked in surprise. "Oh, please, that's not necessary. I really don't mind if you stand."
Tanaka smiled again. "No, no, I insist, Miss..."
"Belmonte. Maria Belmonte," the secretary answered.
"Miss Belmonte. It's really no trouble," Tanaka said. "Why, does it make me look silly?"
Belmonte hesitated. She must have been encouraged by the Spartan's smile, as she grinned herself and nodded, chuckling.
Success, Tanaka thought. "Don't worry about it. If anyone thinks I'm a person to fuck with just because of this, they deserve whatever I do to them."
She had meant it in a joking manner, but Belmonte must not have understood that as her expression froze and all levity in the room evaporated.
Goddammit, the Spartan thought. Maybe joking about brutalizing her comrades after the impression Osiris had made wasn't the best course of action. She would have to be more careful about her casual relationship with violence around these colonists. Maybe she ought to cut back on the cussing, too. She had heard some civvies don't like that...
"Anyway," Tanaka continued, hoping to recover from her mistake, "I just wanted to apologize for the impression we must have made when we got here." Belmonte covered it well, but the Spartan could tell from her body language that she was surprised. Spending most of her time around fellow supersoldiers wearing face-concealing helmets had granted Tanaka a better than average ability to read human posture and body movements. "We may be... a bit forceful," understatement of the fucking century, Tanaka thought, continuing, "but we bear no ill will toward Meridian or its people. We only want to do our job and leave you all in peace."
Secretary Belmonte nodded, saying, "Of course." Her body language, however, radiated skepticism.
Tanaka sighed internally. Making friends was not something they taught in Basic, and she was not naturally good at it. Nor had she trained in any kind of spook school; she had no idea how to manipulate people on a social level. Not that I would want to, she thought, remembering the disdain she had for ONI and everyone who worked there. Sneaky creeps...
The Spartan forced herself to focus on the job at hand. She needed Belmonte to trust her if she was going to get any useful intel out of the woman. More than that, though, Tanaka genuinely did want to make up for Locke's behavior in whatever small way she could. I suppose I'll have to open up a bit, she thought, deeply unhappy about the prospect. She didn't like making herself vulnerable to anyone, least of all some random colonist she barely knew. Still, if that's what she needed to do, that's what she needed to do.
"The last thing we wanted was to touch off riots," she said, allowing a genuine frown to appear on her face. She resisted the urge to slam her helmet over her head to hide it. "Believe me, I saw enough of that shit growing up." Oops. Slipped up on the language.
Fortunately, Belmonte didn't seem to mind Tanaka's profanity. Instead, she frowned in sympathy. "I'm sorry to hear that...Say, did you happen to grow up in the Outer Colonies?"
"Accent gave it away, huh?" Tanaka chuckled. Belmonte laughed quietly along with her, blushing a bit in embarrassment, and nodded in confirmation. Tanaka smiled in reassurance. She proceed to tell her new buddy about her childhood. The overcrowding. The suffering refugees. How she had grown up alone, orphaned before she could even really remember. How she couldn't even remember where she was originally from. And, of course, all of the wonderful interactions she had had with the Federal, or should she say Inner Colony, authorities growing up.
"If you don't mind my asking," Belmonte asked hesitantly. Tanaka motioned for her to continue, wanting to assure her that nothing was off limits. Reassured, the secretary continued, "if you're experience with the UEG was so negative growing up, why do you fight for them now?"
"I don't fight for them," Tanaka said resolutely. "I fight for humanity. I fight to protect everyone, Inner Colony and Outer Colony alike. I'll be honest with you, when I first joined up the only thing on my mind was putting as many light years between myself and Minab as I could. Over time, though, I started to realize just how many threats there are out there." The Spartan's expression grew deadly serious. "We need a strong, unified military if we're ever gonna be safe. We need to be carrying a big-ass stick if anyone is going to take us seriously as a species in the inter-stellar theater. Of course," she continued, allowing her smile to return, "that don't mean we have to be assholes about it."
They both shared a good chuckle over that before moving on to other topics of conversation. All in all, she thought the meeting went rather well.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Why do I get the feeling I'm not welcome? Buck thought to himself.
He was entering the 3rd Security Station of the day, looking for any potential leads on Blue Team. The AI on board the frigate in orbit, the UNSC Emergence from Dusk, was currently analyzing the data gathered from Fireteam Osiris' high altitude flybies of the mining sites and glasslands. It would alert them as soon as it found any trace of the rogue Spartan IIs. In the meantime, Spartan Locke had determined that the best way to gather more intel would be to split up and interrogate various sections of Meridian society. Buck had been assigned to the Meridian Security Force.
Buck grimaced again at his superior's decision to divide the team. Gee Willickers, let's split up, gang! he imagined Locke saying. Maybe it was a spook thing, but Buck would have never divided his forces while in uncertain territory back when he commanded his own squad of ODSTs. What if they were ambushed? Locke certainly seemed to be putting all his chips on the idea that Blue Team was hiding in the glasslands somewhere, but wasn't it possible they would sneak back in to tail Osiris?
Maybe that's the idea. Using us as bait, like. Maybe he even wants to bump a few of us off. Would be the sort of thing I'd expect from a bad ONI Agent, he thought. How Veronica even survived in that snake pit he didn't know.
Buck walked up to the Security desk. Neither the Officer behind the desk, nor anyone else in sight, seemed happy to see him. Noone was overt about it, but he would swear he felt the room temperature drop by several degrees upon his entry. He asked to see the Officer in charge of the station and the man behind the desk complied. In a few moments Buck was talking to a 'Sgt. Ajit Singh.' Why a Sgt. was in charge of a precinct instead of a Captain or some other higher rank was odd. Maybe private security groups just did things differently.
"Greetings. How can I help you?" Sgt. Singh asked with obviously forced politeness. Clearly, putting on a facade of respect and ass-kissing was not this man's strong suit. He probably sucked at poker. Buck felt a moment of kinship with the man. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.
"Just here for a little inspection," Buck lied. He suppressed a grimace with great effort. He despised lying, especially to allies. Damn orders. "The UNSC is concerned about this colony's preparedness in the case of enemy attack and would like to evaluate its various departments."
Sgt. Singh's expression darkened even more. Buck realized that he had just become something even worse than an invading military force in the law enforcement officer's eyes: he was Internal Affairs.
"Of course, sir," Singh said respectfully. "I assure you, we are committed and more than prepared for any potential threat, sir. You are, of course, free to inspect any aspect of this station and its attendant Officers, sir."
Buck thought the Sgt. was laying it on a little thick with the 'sir' crap. The Spartan really must have botched his initial impression. "Let's go somewhere we can talk privately," he said. Singh nodded, and the 2 went into his office.
Buck scowled behind his polarized visor at how cramped Sgt. Singh's office was. This was all they gave their Security Force? If Singh was as competent as he'd heard, his respect for the Sgt. would go up a notch from this alone.
"Sorry for the mess," Singh apologized, referring to the disorganized pile of papers and file folders that littered his desk. "If I knew you were coming, I'd have cleaned up a bit."
"Don't worry about it. I know what it's like to work for a living," Buck assured him. Singh paused at that, eying him suspiciously. Buck saw this as an opportunity and decided to press forward immediately.
Buck depolarized his faceplate. Normally he kept it so that it was only transparent from his perspective; to everyone else, his visor as a uniform slate gray. It was a habit he had picked up while an ODST. It helped enhance the mystique of an elite soldier, which made people more ready to do what he told them to. In the field, you rarely had time to convince people that you knew what the hell you were talking about. Even though lower ranking soldiers were obligated to follow his orders, the stress of combat enhanced any hesitance to life threatening levels. Keeping the visor polarized was a habit that many Spartans also employed, including, obviously, Buck himself. However, it was a liability here. Sgt. Singh needed to trust, or at least not actively distrust, Buck if he was to get any work done here. Thus, giving the Sgt. an expressive human face to talk to rather than an opaque visor would be a mission asset. Buck mentally chewed himself out for considering a conversation with an ally a 'mission'. Maybe Locke was rubbing off on him...
"I'm gonna be honest here with you, Sgt. I really don't want to be here," Buck said in as honest a tone of voice he could manage. He looked Singh in the eye, trying to communicate the genuine nature of the statement. Buck really did mean that. "From everything I've seen and heard, especially about how you guys handled the riots yesterday, there's no point to me being here. But," he sighed, "orders are orders. Just help me get enough to satisfy my superiors and we can call it a day, alright?"
Sgt. Singh seemed to consider him for a moment. Apparently deciding to take Buck at his word, he nodded, saying, "Alright. Here're all of the incident reports from the last month. Also, here's the equipment lists and maintenance logs. Should be enough to satisfy, I think," he said, handing Buck a compad. The personnel files were noticeably absent. Buck decided he didn't care; they could get those remotely, anyway. He thanked him, and began skimming the files. There was no reason to go over all of them with a fine tooth comb. He was just looking for missing supplies or suspicious characters. Besides, he just flat didn't have time for that if he was going to get to the other Security stations by the days end.
"If you don't mind, I'd like to take a copy of these files. Exam them in 'greater detail'" Buck said, rolling his eyes, "That okay with you?"
Singh grinned slightly and nodded his consent. Buck glanced over the equipment list again and his gaze became riveted on one particular item. He looked to the Sgt. "Is this some kind of joke?" he asked, showing Singh the item in question.
The Sgt. chuckled. "Come with me," he said, leading Buck out of his office. They walked out of his office and the Security station, Singh grabbing a clean surgical mask before leaving the hermetically sealed building. Apparently even the residents thought this place smelled like ass.
They walked around the corner and came to the station's vehicle depot. It was a small, enclosed garage, barely big enough to fit the 10 or so vehicles that the Officers used for daily operations. Towards the back, however, there was what was clearly a large door separating another area from the main garage. Singh walked up to a number pad built into the wall next to the door and input a 10 digit code. The door rolled up into the ceiling, and Buck saw just about the last thing he ever would have expected to find in a run down, under-equipped backwater like Meridian: A Scorpion M808B Main Battle Tank.
"What...in the hell...?" Buck asked. The Scorpion appeared to be in perfect working order. The main armament, an M512 Smooth Bore High Velocity Cannon, was rated to fire 90mm tungsten shells and was attached to a 360° swivel mount behind the enclosed, single-person cockpit. The shells would be auto-loaded into the cannon by mechanisms hidden within the mount's rear, eliminating the need for additional crew members. An M247T Medium Machine Gun was attached to the mount below the cannon and could be controlled manually by the single pilot or by an auto-targeting program pre-installed onto the tank's on-board computer systems. The single pilot would control it all through a combination of manual controls and an interface with the neural implant installed in the backs of the heads of all UNSC personnel. The M808B was completely covered in Ceramic-Titanium armor plates capable of shrugging off a plasma mortar from a Covenant Wraith Tank. The entire thing rested upon 4 independently maneuverable treads, offering maximum traction over uneven or unsteady terrain. It was the pinnacle of UNSC armored land attack vehicles and had served proudly and effectively during the Human-Covenant War. It was also way outside the budget of a security station on a backwater planet that had no possible need for a 10.2m long, 7.8m wide, 66 metric ton death machine.
"No offense, Sgt., but could you explain to me why—no, how—the flyin' fuck a Meridian Security Station got it's hands on God's gift to infantry?" Buck asked Singh, utterly baffled by what he had discovered.
The Sgt. chuckled. "No offense taken, Spartan. As for how, well, mostly it boils down to corporate idiocy," he explained, sighing in wearied exasperation. "We struggle to get everything out here, from food to medicine, but every once in a while Company Headquarters decides to drop a big, expensive pile of military hardware on us. I guess some people there are scared of some kind of alien attack and want to feel like they're protecting their investment." Singh's face took on a scowl. "Might not be so bad if they were consistent about it, but it only seems to happen every so often and in completely illogical ways. I guess every now and then something happens that spooks them and they throw some money at an arms company or something to make the fear go away. Combine that with all of the government subsidies for arms manufacturing following the War and, well...we get a goddamn tank."
"...no shit..." Buck said in wonder. He guessed it made sense, from a corporate dumbass perspective. Still, as idiotic as it was, it was nice to see one of the Scorpions again. These beauties had saved his ass, and the asses of countless other marines, from more Covenant assaults than he could count. The only unpleasant thing about it was the piss-ugly red and blue paint scheme. That and the 'Liang-Dortmund Company' name and logo where the UNSC and Marine Corps emblem should have been.
"Yeah. You believe we don't even have anyone qualified to run this thing?" Singh continued. "I'm the only one in the station who even has the neural implant you need just to start this behemoth, and my time in the Army didn't give me any expertise in driving tanks! Honestly, I'm kinda hoping you can take this off my hands for me, seein' as how it's just taking up space."
Buck chuckled in sympathy. "I'll see what I can do. We didn't plan on picking up any supplies here, but you can never have enough tanks, if ya ask me." Buck sighed. "Seems like no matter where you work, the brass has its head too far up its own ass to know where stick its gear."
"Yeah?" the Sgt. asked in mild surprise. "I always figured you Federal types always had your stuff together."
Buck burst into laughter so hard he almost doubled over. "Are you kiddin' me?" he asked, once he'd caught his breath. "Command screwed up near constantly when I was a marine. Things got a little better when I joined the ODSTs, and even better when I became a Spartan, but screwups happened all the time. I remember one time my ODST squad got assigned one of those new 'Spartan Laser' cannons. It was a man portable directed energy weapon, about the size and weight of a Jackhammer missile launcher. It was capable of killing near-any Covenant vehicle in one shot. Sweet gun—but none of us knew how to use it! We hadn't been trained for it. And the thing didn't even come with an instruction manual! I had to pester the quartermaster for days to get one." Buck shook his head. "Still, once we worked out how to use it, the Laser was one of the best things to ever happen to us. We were spec ops, so we didn't take part in many conventional battles, but when we did it really saved our asses."
Buck thought back to the fighting that had taken place on Earth in the final days of the Human-Covenant War. Of the seemingly-countless Wraiths and Banshee gunships that the Covenant had thrown at the dwindling human resistance. Of the fighting retreats and desperate last stands. The bright red flash of a Spartan Laser firing was one of the most beautiful damn things in the galaxy, if you asked him.
The Spartan IV shook his head. "Well, I guess I better get going," he said. Suddenly, he remembered something. "Oh, yeah, we were also told that there might be some fugitives hangin' out on Meridian," he said. "It's a long shot, but have you seen a group of five people recently come to this planet? They'd be hard to miss. 4 of them are huge, tall bastards; 2 men and 2 women. Could probably break a man in two if they wanted. Number 5 was an elderly woman, academic type, bit of an ego about her. Seen any new arrivals like that in the last couple months or so?"
Sgt. Singh's face turned to stone. "No," he said, "afraid I haven't...These folks dangerous?"
Whoa. Alarms going off here, Buck thought.
"Potentially. If you get in their way," he answered truthfully. He doubted Blue Team would kill a civilian for being a threat, but they could still do a lot of damage if they needed to. "You're sure you haven't seen anything?" he asked insistently.
"Completely sure," Singh answered. "I'll be sure to let you know if I do, though."
Buck nodded, deciding that this was as much as he would get out of this particular interaction. He'd have to inform Locke about this the next chance he got.
Of course, if this seemingly-innocent Officer managed to alert any Spartan IIs in the meantime, well...he couldn't be held responsible for that, now could he?
Buck grinned, nodded at the good Sgt., and left the garage.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
I don't know whether to be charmed or terrified, Spartan Vale thought to herself.
She was currently outdoors, in a dead end, surrounded by small figures wearing gas masks. In any other context, it would be the setting of a bad horror movie. On Meridian, it simply meant Vale had caught the attention of Meridian's small population of children while on her way back from questioning the 'Prospector' barracks designated 'Icarus Flats'.
Normally, Vale liked kids. They were always so inquisitive, so eager to learn about anything that caught their fancy. Here, though, the gas masks they all had to wear while outdoors were really putting her off.
"Children!" Vale heard a middle-aged woman call. "Leave the soldier alone!" The woman ran up to the group, shooing the errant youngsters away. "I'm terribly sorry, Ma'am. We were just crossing the street to enter the gymnasium when the children spotted you. They meant no disrespect," she said deferentially. A bit too deferentially, in Vale's opinion. She got the impression that the woman was afraid of her. That would not do.
"That's quite alright, ma'am," Vale assured her, depolarizing her faceplate. Unlike Locke's helmet, her visor covered the entirety of her face. That way, if the camera systems ever malfunctioned, she would still be able to see unimpeded. Why Osiris Lead had covered all but the area around his eyes with opaque armor was beyond her. "What's your name, if I may ask?" Vale asked in as friendly a tone as possible.
The woman was clearly taken aback. "...Miss Hayashi," she replied hesitantly. "I teach at PS 03. These children are my responsibility."
"Is she a Spartan?" one of the children, a girl, asked. Vale guessed she was about 6 years old given her size and voice.
The woman responded quickly and, in Vale's opinion, rather harshly. "Aiko! I told you to go with the other children!"
"But none of them went inside either!" the child, Aiko, whined. Hayashi looked up to see that, indeed, none of them had.
"Really, it's quite alright, ma'am," Vale said. "In fact, I'd be happy to answer any questions these young ones have if it's acceptable to you." This prompted a cheer from the eavesdropping children.
Ms. Hayashi looked torn between her distrust of the UNSC soldier and her desire not to be torn apart by a bunch of deprived children. Eventually, the teacher relented and allowed her charges to gather round the Spartan. Vale sat on the ground cross-legged in order to be on a more even level with them. The children followed suit, apparently used to this kind of teaching style. Vale still towered over them; she guessed that their ages ranged from about 4 to 7 years old.
"To answer your question—Aiko, was it?" Vale got a nod in response from the suddenly wide-eyed girl. Vale smiled at her. "Yes, I am indeed a Spartan." This prompted an explosion of questions from the children, forcing Vale to insist on everyone quieting down, which took about half a minute. "Now now," Vale said, "I can only answer you one at a time. Raise your hands and I will answer as best I can." Naturally, all of the children raised their hands. She picked one at random.
"Did you fight in the War? Against the aliens?" one of them, a boy judging by the voice, asked.
"Yes, I did," Vale answered. "Although I was just a marine, then. I didn't become a Spartan until about a year ago." That had been an experience. Being put under and waking up to find a radically different, superhuman body in place of the one she had been accustomed to had been shocking, to say the least. She supposed she should be glad that the bleeding in the eyes had stopped popping up within a couple of weeks, considering the horror stories about people whose bodies unexpectedly rejected the treatment.
She picked another child.
"Do you know the Master Chief?" this one, apparently a girl, asked. All of the other children reacted to this, clamoring for an answer. Vale felt suddenly awkward. She was glad none of them knew the reason she and the rest of Fireteam Osiris were really here. They may not mean Blue Team any harm, but it was still extremely awkward to be hunting humanity's greatest heroes.
"Not personally, no," she said. "There are a lot of Spartans now, much more than there were during the Human-Covenant War." The children seemed stunned by this, most of them excited at the prospect of there being more 'real-life superheroes' out there. She left out the part about how the new Spartans were of the Series IV augmentations, which produced inferior results than the older but more dangerous Series II which had produced the Master Chief.
Vale called another child, again at random.
This one, a boy, seemed more awkward than the others had. His question was asked in a tentative, almost fearful tone, a far cry from the adoration and hero worship that the others had. "My pa says that soldiers mostly don't fight aliens. That they mostly hurt people who don't like the Oo-ee-gee." Many of the other gas masked heads turned sharply to the boy. One of those next to him shoved him.
"Hey! None of that!" Vale chastised them. The children stilled immediately. "There's no call for violence here." She looked to the boy who asked the question. "Your father was probably thinking of the Insurrection. They were people who didn't like rules and the way things are supposed to go, so they tried to fight leaders of humanity for control. They were very bad people, and they hurt a lot of boys and girls just like you. But-" she made sure to emphasize, "we don't hurt good people. The Insurrection is gone now, and I'm sure none of you would be bad enough to be one of them, right?" she asked. The children all shook their heads violently in answer. A few of them had to readjust their gas masks. Vale wondered how uncomfortable those must be before continuing to answer questions.
The boy who had asked the question about the Insurrection didn't seem entirely convinced, if his body language was anything to go by. Vale supposed that was inevitable. The boy's father sounded like the kind of man who had no lost love for the UEG or UNSC, and probably filled his child's head with all sorts of anti-government rhetoric.
Not that Vale was blind to the plight of the Outer Colonists. While Vale had grown up an Inner Colonist, she had always been more knowledgeable than most for one important reason: her father was a diplomat. He was one of the all too few individuals who would often be called away to mediate disputes in the Outer Colonies in order to diffuse tensions without violence.
Her mother had been killed in a Covenant attack when she was an infant and her father, not wanting his only child to grow up completely without him, would often take her on trips with him. On those trips Vale had made a habit of sneaking out of the UEG compounds where her family stayed and making friends with anyone she could meet outside. She smiled as she remembered the exasperated security guards who could never understand how she managed to keep slipping away. Not that said trips were without cost. Her smile faded into a grimace as she remembered the fights she had gotten into; more frequently than she would ever admit, her life had been on the line in those combats. She never told anyone about her frequent brushes with death. They were never enough to deter her, anyway.
Her father had, naturally, been furious at her escapades. However, Vale could tell that he was always secretly proud of the way she would befriend the Outer Colonists and learn about their lives. They would often have long discussions about what she had learned. She knew from a very young age that the Outer Colonists were frequently treated as second class citizens. Unfavorable trade agreements with the Inner Colonies, restrictive regulations regarding planetary development, exploitation by Inner Colony corporations that left entire worlds impoverished...no, Vale was not blind.
That was one of the reasons she had committed herself to learning as much as she could about human society from a young age. She believed that ignorance was the greatest enemy of humankind. When she began to understand the significance of humanity's first contact with aliens, beyond the struggle to survive, she had begun devouring any scrap of information she could find about them. Humanity needed peace with other sapient species. If it could pull that off, surely peace within itself would be a trivial challenge in comparison.
"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," a familiar voice asked from behind her. Locke.
Vale had been careful to hide her growing suspicion that ONI, the organization that had produced her current commanding officer, was a purveyor of ignorance. That it intentionally restricted the information that Inner Colonists received about the state of affairs in the Outer Colonies, downplaying any injustices in order to prevent popular outrage that could remove ONI from power. They were probably just conspiracy theories, anyway. Sure there were coverups, but ONI couldn't be that corrupt, could it?
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Hope Vale hasn't told them anything they don't need to know, Locke thought.
What was Vale doing, anyway? He had assigned her to interrogate the Prospectors, not entertain children. Now he finds her leading story time with a bunch of first graders?
Said children all looked up in awe before jumping to their feet and rushing to him. He had to fight his combat instincts as he was rapidly surrounded. Kids had no sense of boundaries...
"Are you a Spartan too?"
"Why's your armor so different?"
"What's that symbol on your chest?"
"Can you lift a car with your bare hands?"
"How many aliens have you fought?"
"Have you ever flown a starfighter?"
The deluge of questions continued. Locke had no idea what to do. If he didn't know better, he would swear he could see Spartan Vale holding in laughter. He scowled behind his polarized faceplate. If he were an immature man, he would be a bit pissed off about that.
Thankfully, Vale swooped in and bailed him out. She drew their attention back to her, continuing story time with some rather embellished stories of fighting the Covenant.
Now that Locke had a moment to think, and some room to breathe, he reconsidered punishing Vale for wasting time. He had realized that his behavior upon arrival had done more harm than good. Perhaps Vale, and maybe the other members of Fireteam Osiris, could help mend the fences a bit.
Not that any of the violence was his fault. If the colonists of Meridian wanted to act like out of control children, that was their responsibility. He just wasn't used to having to deal with them like this. He supposed he'd have to rely on his subordinates to help make up for his deficiencies in babysitting skills.
Locke looked down to see a girl at his feet. She looked up at him. Locke could see through her gas mask that her eyes were wide. Was she afraid?
He decided that he didn't want her to be afraid of him.
It was a bizarre thought for an ONI agent, he reflected, but it would be nice if, just once, he could have a civilian not piss their pants upon seeing him. He lowered himself to one knee so he could be closer to eye level with the kid.
"Hi..." he said awkwardly. He was unsure how to go about this. He decided to keep it simple. "My name's Locke. What's your name?"
"...Aiko..." she replied.
"Aiko. That's a pretty name," Locke said. He noticed that she was carrying some kind of action figure in her hand. "Is that a Spartan?" he asked, making an educated guess. Aiko nodded wordlessly. "Can I see him?" She nodded again, handing him the figure.
The thing was obviously a cheap knockoff. The plastic was low quality. The joints had clearly broken off and been glued back together, making them immobile. The paint was faded. Even the design was crap; it barely looked like MJOLNIR armor at all. Locke seriously wondered if whatever hack company made this thing just repainted some generic 'soldier' figure it had sold previously. If it weren't for the numbers '117' painted on the chest piece, marking the figure as representing the Master Chief, he would have suspected the girl was just pretending it was a Spartan figure. Maybe he could get this kid something better. He doubted the Infinity kept action figures in stock, but maybe he could have something shipped to her after he left...
"It's the Master Chief," Aiko said.
Locke nodded. "I see that," he said in a positive tone of voice. "You like the Master Chief?"
Aiko nodded again. "He's my hero."
Locke smiled. "Can I tell you a secret?" he asked in a slight whisper. Aiko's eyes widened and, again, she nodded. Locke wondered if she always communicated this way. He smiled again, belatedly realizing that she couldn't see him doing so.
"He's my hero, too," Locke confessed.
Then, Aiko asked him a question he had not been prepared for: "Do you know him?"
Suddenly, unexpectedly, Locke was caught up in a memory.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
The marine dropped his rifle and fell to the floor. At first Locke thought he might be injured, but then he noticed the man roll into a fetal position and begin crying. Oh. He was just scared.
Luckily, the aliens had backed off just before the man fell down. Otherwise that might have been really bad. Locke scowled at the man through his own tears. Wasn't he supposed to be protecting them? Sure, he was crying too, but he was only 6! The marine was an adult!
The Sgt. in charge didn't even bother dragging his helpless soldier to his feet. Locke could tell that the officer was barely keeping himself upright. His eyes looked...almost empty. He'd probably been fighting the whole day. And losing. Things really didn't look good...
Locke and the rest of the colonists were relying on the marines. They needed to hold the aliens off until the transport ship was ready to carry them all to someplace safe. It was the only way to escape Jericho VII before the aliens destroyed it. Locke shuddered as he remembered the desperate run to the starport from his family's apartment. He fought off tears and tried not to think about how he was the only one of his family that hadn't been...killed...by the...
Locke shook his head. He would not think about that. He would NOT! He needed to stay strong. But things seemed so hopeless...
"Incoming!" one of the marines on the barricades shouted.
Locke rushed forward, looking through one of the gaps in the improvised barriers in front of the entrance to the small backup starport. All of the adults were too busy either getting ready to fight or crying on the ground to pull him back. Locke probably would have curled up himself if what he saw didn't make him freeze in fear.
There was some kind of...tank approaching. But it didn't look like any tank Locke had ever seen. It was a dark blue rather than the green or gray that normal tanks were painted. It had no treads. Instead it hovered over the ground, seemingly on a cloud of bluish light. The tank was round, curvy, with some kind of flower-looking thing where its cannon should be. Suddenly, a bright ball of blue light erupted from the flower and arced through the air. It hit a car that had broken down in the road; it had been too big and heavy to move. The ball of light made a bright flash when it hit. After the flash faded, the car was completely gone. There was a shallow crater of red-hot pavement where it used to be. Locke gulped.
In front of the tank were aliens...a lot of aliens. In front were the short ones. They waddled forward in a way that would be funny if they weren't firing green balls of light at the marines. A bunch of them were shot by the marines and fell over, but the other aliens didn't seem to care. They just moved around them and kept coming. One of the green balls hit a marine in the face. He fell off the barricade and landed next to Locke. The ball had...melted...his...
Locke looked back through the crack at the aliens. Behind the short ones were the really, really tall ones. There were only a few of them, but they were a lot scarier than the little guys. They were covered in armor. Every once in a while the marines would manage to shoot one, but instead of falling over like the little guys, some weird, gold-colored shell would appear and take the hit for them. Locke could swear the big aliens were laughing as they fired back, their balls of bluish light forcing the marines to hide behind the barricade. The aliens kept moving closer.
Locke knew that he was about to die.
Then, what looked like a small, gray baseball fell in the middle of the little aliens and exploded.
Half of them were blown to pieces.
The other aliens turned to Locke's right, firing like crazy at an enemy he couldn't see. Suddenly, the shell of one of the big aliens appeared...and immediately broke. The alien's head exploded. The rest of the big aliens were quickly killed in the same manner. Once they were all dead, the little aliens started running around in a panic. Some even tried to run away. Whatever unseen force had come to the colonists' rescue didn't let them. All of the aliens were dead before Locke even realized what was going on.
The tank turned in place really quick. Locke saw that it was pointing it's flower-gun at...
Whoa.
That guy was huge. Locke could tell it was human. Two arms, two legs, stands upright, legs only had one knee each...
But noone was that big. Not to mention the weird, green armor that covered him head to toe. Was this the guy who had just killed all of the aliens?
The tank fired.
Locke's heart jumped into his throat. The armored guy would get melted by that thing for sure!
Then the armored guy moved faster than Locke had ever seen anyone move. He dashed from cover to cover, dodging the machine gun-like bursts of light that came from just below the tank's big gun. The big gun fired again and again, but the armored guy was just too fast. He ran right up to the tank, dodging the machine gun thing, and jumped on top of it!
He ran up the front of the tank, grabbed the main gun, and swung around to grab onto the thing's rear. The tank started spinning really quick, trying to shake him off. Locke saw him holding on with one hand, using the other to pry open some kind of armor plate or panel. Then, he took another gray baseball—a grenade!—and shoved it into the opening he had made. The armored guy jumped off and sprinted away from the tank. Locke could barely follow him he moved so fast...But he wasn't using cover anymore. The tank would blast him for sure!
The tank exploded in a giant cloud of blue-white fire.
The ground shook. The brightness of the flash blinded Locke. The noise of the explosion made his ears hurt.
Then, there was total silence. Locke blinked the spots from his eyes. He looked back out. The tank was a broken, burning wreck.
Then, he saw the armored guy. The soldier. Their savior. He was okay!
Suddenly, a marine shouted out. But it wasn't out of fear. It was a cheer. A roar of joy and triumph. The rest of the marines joined in, giving their voices to the victory cry. Even Locke started shouting along with them.
The armored soldier made his way to the barricades. Locke wasn't sure how he was going to get through, since there wasn't a door, but he just jumped clean over it! He rolled when he landed, getting up and immediately talking to the Sgt. Whoa. The barricade had to be at least 3 meters high.
The armored guy talked to the Sgt. for only a minute before leaving. The only thing Locke caught was the guy's rank: 'Master Chief'.
Locke was way to nervous to try to talk to him, no matter how much he wanted to. The Sgt. said that the Master Chief was 'classified', whatever that meant, but that he would draw the aliens away from them so they would have time to get away.
Everyone started smiling when they heard that. The marines started getting back into position with a lot more energy than they had just before. Even the ones that had fallen down crying got back up and took their places on the wall.
The aliens attacked a couple more times, but the marines were able to beat them. Some of the colonists even grabbed some guns and joined them on the wall.
They might just make it. Escaping the aliens wasn't hopeless anymore. They could get away. They could survive.
After all, they had a superhero looking out for them.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Spartan Locke shook himself. That was weird. He hadn't thought about that day in years...
He looked down, noticing that the little girl was still waiting for an answer.
"No, I'm afraid I don't know the Master Chief," he said, to the girl's obvious disappointment. "But I did meet him once," he added.
The girl perked up at this. "W-what was he like?" she asked eagerly.
Locke chuckled. "He was everything you would expect him to be."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Later that night, Locke reflected on the Master Chief. On the hero.
The Master Chief would have been able to do a much better job than Locke had managed to do in his shoes. If he had arrived on Meridian, the colonists wouldn't have put up so much of a fight. No, they would have flocked to him. The Chief could have united the entire colony behind him in minutes. Together they could have conquered any threat. Locke had seen it happen firsthand.
This was the problem with being an ONI Agent. Locke just wasn't hero material. He was, really, a blunt instrument. A tool to accomplish violent objectives when more subtle machinations were impossible or just unavailable. He was not a hero. Even the regular Spartan IVs paled in comparison to the Master Chief and the rest of Blue Team.
Locke resolved to commit even more of himself to accomplishing his mission. Humanity needed its heroes back.
Note: And another piece of the puzzle that is Spartan/Agent Jameson Locke falls into place. If you think this contradicts my previous characterization of him—first of all, thank you. It gives me all kinds of feels to know I successfully created a character that people can recognize—don't worry, I've had a plan for him from the beginning. All of this will be made clear.
Note: The 'blunt instrument' line was taken from Ian Fleming's James Bond novels. I haven't read any of them myself, but my understanding of them is that the Bond character is far darker and much more morally gray than the suave man's man that Sean Connery gave us. I still enjoy Connery's Bond, don't get me wrong, but that's not what I'm going for here.
Note: I know you're probably eager to see what's going on with Blue Team after last chapter's revelations. Believe me, I'm eager to write it. I've been waiting so long to put this part of my plans into print. However, I felt that I needed to put a breather chapter in right here. There's going to be a lot of strong emotions and character growth just ahead and I don't want to overwhelm the reader. Pacing is important, after all. Thoughts?
Note: So, another brief action scene. I've looked up some articles online about how to write good action scenes and I tried to apply them here. How'd I do?
Note: Last but not least, I come to a subject that simply had not occurred to me before: A cover image for this story. At the beginning I honestly wasn't sure if I would get enough attention to warrant figuring out how to get a cover image to put in the little thumbnail thing next to the story name/description. Now, however, it's really starting to stick out to me that I have a generic blank profile image next to my biggest story. Problem is, I can't draw for crap and I have no idea how to go about getting an image. I would appreciate any advice or help you guys could give me regarding this.
Thanks for reading. Love you guys.
Slipspace Anomaly.